Tales From the Third Age
by ScribeOfRED
Summary: A collection of drabbles; movie- and book-verse. 20: Bookshelf - Faramir stepped into their chambers. "Éoywn?" - Complete.
1. Stream

**As promised: a collection of Lord of the Rings drabbles. Currently they're a series of fifteen, and chapters will be posted every other day, opposite my Force Unleashed drabbles.**

**The difference here is that two thirds of the drabbles have been written by my brother, G.R.I.T. Commander. This is his first time posting written work online, so be sure to leave lots of encouraging words for him. We have fairly different styles, so it's likely you'll be able to tell our drabbles apart, but I will note the author of each chapter.  
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**Please enjoy these brief forays into the marvelously rich word of Middle-earth.  
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**Tales From the Third Age  
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**by  
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**Scribe~Of~RED and G.R.I.T. Commander  
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**G.R.I.T. Commander**

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"When the King Under the Mountain returned, there would be a river of gold flowing out of the Moutain, or so went the legends," said Bilbo.

"A river of gold?" asked Merry. "That sounds marvelous!" There was a big smile across his face and a dreamy look in his eyes.

"Yes, it would be, wouldn't it? Imagine it: a flowing river of sparkling gold, pure as can be as it rushed into a ravine beside the Lonely Mountain."

"Well, was there a river after Smaug died?"

Bilbo's smile faded. "Oh yes," he said, "but it was of blood, not gold."


	2. Warmth

**Obviously, I'm not going to have much to say about my brother's drabbles; they originate from his mind, not mine. I merely give him a prompt and let him run with it... then pull an editing job (of varying degree) afterward. I suppose it's a good thing drabbles don't require a huge explanation or anything...**

**However, I will say I quite like the way he wrote this drabble. I've never seen him use such a style before, but I simplely must convince him to use it again.  
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**G.R.I.T. Commander**

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Warmth. It surrounds me—the power and heat is overwhelming. Each step I take is a war against myself, a battle against my will. As I walk, my mind is set and yet torn on what I am about to do. As I reach the edge, my body screams to just end it, yet my mind won't let me. The warmth is almost unbearable by now, just another factor playing into my decision. No, I can't, but I must, but I won't. I slide it onto my finger and walk off, only to be stopped and thrown to the warmth.

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**Review?**


	3. Forequarter

**I know this is a bit of an unusual POV, but I've always been a horse lover, so it was a rather natural idea for me. I haven't been able to get this last line the way I like, but I'm satisfied enough to post it.**

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**Scribe~Of~RED  
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The stench of evil, more putrid than spoiled meat crawling with maggots, descended upon the plain. With it settled darkness, the likes of which even Snowmane's keen eyes could not pierce.

A screech rent the air, piercing his sensitive ears; he reared, felt his master's legs tighten around his girth, as his flinty hooves tore the air.

In his shoulder was a prick, a faint twitch of muscles, before fire cascaded through him: a searing, black heat.

He knew he had to protect his master, but he couldn't slow his fall.

It was his pierced shoulder that ruined Théoden King.

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**Review?**


	4. Passion

**This is one of my favorite drabbles my bro has written. It took very little editing, limited to a few word adjustments, and I think he accomplished the style really well, considering I haven't given him any tips on styling. Where he comes up with these ideas I'll never know...  
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**G.R.I.T. Commander  
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T'was passion that led to great ruin.

The passion for minerals, rocks, and precious stones led to so many deaths.

The passion to dig deeper, build bigger, and mine farther led to too many deaths.

The passion to explore almost wiped out an entire race.

Passion... unleashed one of the greatest evils in Middle-earth.

Passion... made a great, thriving city of trade and colonization into a pit of fear, evil, death, and pain.

Passion... created one of the greatest displays of stoneworks of the ages, then turned it into the greatest tomb of the ages.

Passion... was Moria's downfall.

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**Review?**


	5. Campfire

**I'm not exactly sure what style my bro was going for here (he says he doesn't know himself), and neither of us are sure if it works or not. You'll have to let us know what you think.**

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Frodo stirred from his sleep by the sounds of voices and a warm light. They had traveled to Weathertop all that day, and he was exhausted. Once he woke up fully, he turned, and, to his horror, found that Merry, Sam and Pippin had lit a fire and were cooking food! He quickly got up and put out the fire, which was followed by the horrifying scream of a Black Rider...

Later, Sam vowed never to make a campfire again when, every year on October 6th, he saw Frodo cringe in pain from the knife wound of a Morgul Blade.

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**Review?**


	6. Grass

**Once again, I don't really have anything to say besides _enjoy_.**

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**G.R.I.T. Commander**

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Grass. While en route to the Counsel of Elrond, Gimli was surprised by growing life such as trees, flowers, and grass all over again. Living under The Mountain for most of his life meant he didn't come out much. Even when he did, he didn't see many growing things; after Smaug's death nothing grew in Dale so he didn't see green plants often. Coming into Rivendell took his breath away—not an easy thing to do for a Dwarf. They stopped in a pasture for the night, and Gimli fell asleep in the grass with a smile on his face.

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**Review?**


	7. Circle

**I honestly have no idea how this idea sparked, aside from the whole _circle_ = ring thing. **

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Scribe~Of~RED

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_Circle_ was many things.

It was the simple ring of gold—pure evil in its most elegant, alluring form.

_Gollum held the ring aloft for hours, peering through the perfect window into the imperfections within._

It was the ball of fire in the sky—beauty and blinding and _hot_.

_Boromir felt its golden rays caress his cheeks one last time before everything went dark..._

It was the crown of the king—wings of hope rising from the silver.

_Arwen kissed the crown, then him: a promise of those to come._

Circle was death.

Circle was life.

Circle was eternity reborn.

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**Review?**


	8. Library

**I'm publishing tonight, since I won't have time tomorrow.  
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**G.R.I.T says he thinks of this one as "kinda cute." And he's a teenager. Okay... Whatever you say, bro.  
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**G.R.I.T. Commander**

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After the Council of Elrond, Legolas decided to prepare for the journey. He honed his daggers, made sure his bow was in order and his arrows sharp. He also spent some time in the great library of Rivendell, studying both map and book with the hobbit Merry. He was both intrigued and amused by this small Halfling: He was bubbly and easy going, but determined to study and learn as well. Legolas and Merry had many a laugh together in that library as they told each other of their lives and adventures. Legolas finished not a single map or book.

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**Review?**


	9. Bed

**I have to admit, I'm a bit disappointed by the lack of reviews for this story. DORK DOG has been a consistent review, so kudos to her (*passes fresh gingerbread*), but I'd like more people to leave feedback, if it's not too much trouble.**

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**G.R.I.T. Commander**

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In all Bilbo's days, he always found a slight bit of humor in beds. As strange as it was, he could never think of them, as fine as they were, as good enough. Orcs and other foul creatures didn't sleep lying down, so they didn't have a need for one. The beds of Dwarves were quite comfortable, since they spent quite some time sleeping. The Elves had splendid beds, as was everything Elvish. Hobbit beds were very soft and plush, for Hobbits were either eating, drinking, or sleeping. But the most splendid beds of all were those of a Dragon's...

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**Review?**


	10. Pocket

**I must admit, I'm exceptionally pleased with how this drabble turned out. The idea came completely unexpected, which makes it even more... _precious_.**

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**Scribe~Of~RED**

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Pockets held such burdens.

Bilbo carried around the One Ring like a trinket; Frodo staggered beneath its crushing demands.

Strider carried kingsfoil weed; Aragorn's bore the heavy weight of healing _athelas_.

Merry stashed nips of Longbottom Leaf; Pippin retained the wooden pipe needed for a fine smoke.

Gandalf's held warmth able to conquer every chill; in Sam's, tucked away was flavor for even the coldest nights.

Gimli often fingered the loops of golden splendor within his; Legolas ensured his replacement strings remained secure.

But alas! Boromir's pockets were empty, save for their lining of expectation and greed.

Such burdens indeed.

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**Review?**


	11. Wings

**G.R.I.T. Commander**

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In the Third Age, wings were either a sign of hope, or great despair.

_"The Eagles are coming!"_

_"And with a piercing cry fell the winged shadows, the Nazgul swooping to kill."_

Either Man or Orc, Wizard or Nazgul—the sight of wings filled beings with terror.

Upon the wind flew a beacon hope and life, or the shroud of fear and death.

Wings were the turning point of wars across the Third Age.

The Battle of the Five Armies and the War of the Ring both ended with the saving wings of Eagles.

To adventurous hobbits, wings were hope.

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**Review?**


	12. Bar

**My bro says this is one of his favorites. I'll let him have it.**

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**G.R.I.T. Commander**

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"Here we are," Gimli said with pride to Merry, "the finest tavern this side of the Misty Mountains!" Before them was a large Dwarven hall filled with Dwarves, Men, and many barrels of ale. T'was a new addition to the mountain in Dale.

Merry looked over at Gimli with a large smile on his face. "My good Dwarf, I challenge you to a drinking game!"

Gimli laughed, then put his arm around Merry's shoulders and brought him over to the large counter on the far side of the cavern. "One barrel each, please!"

They both had to be carried out.

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**Review?**


	13. Feather

**Yes, this is a double-drabble. I could not for the life of me get this into 100 words. I think it's better this way.**

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**Scribe~Of~RED**

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"Frodo."

Frodo turned as Gandalf approached him. The wizard extended his hands. Clasped between his strong fingers was a single brown feather. "A gift from Gwaihir."

"How beautiful." Frodo brushed his fingers up the soft shaft, then withdrew his hand. He shook his head. "It is too fine for me."

"Nonsense. Gwaihir insisted it be given to the Ringbearer."

"Then it is for Sam." Frodo gazed into the East. No fire painted the clouds in hues of blood. "He deserves such a reward."

"And you do not?" Gandalf smiled. "No, Frodo. This is yours."

"It is not mine to take."

Gandalf set his hand on Frodo's shoulder. The worn Elven cloak absorbed the heat of his hand and warmed the faint chill that lingered despite the wound's nonexistence. "Is anything truly ours to take? Sam may have carried the Ring for a short while, he may even have carried you, but understand me when I tell you this: Sam would have never undertaken such a journey if it weren't for you, Frodo."

He set the gift in Frodo's hand and closed his fingers about it. "Treasure this."

Frodo exhaled and turned towards the alabaster city of Minas Tirith. "I shall."

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**Review?**


	14. Unusual

**You wouldn't believe how much my bro and I argued over the last line in this particular drabble. Finally, he agreed to change it, but only after much... uh... _debate_. Which means I pulled my experience card on him.**

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**G.R.I.T. Commander**

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After Bilbo's adventure with Gandalf and the Dwarves, he was considered queer in the Shire. He'd leave and have adventures, and traveled outside to see the Elves quite often.

After the battle of Helm's Deep, Gimli and Legolas became close friends and often traveled together. To others, it was strange to see a Dwarf and an Elf together as companions.

Strider was declared a strange and dangerous man in Bree. He wandered all over Middle-earth, kept his hood low, and talked in hushed tones.

Odd enough, the strangest one in their unusual Company, Gandalf himself was considered most normal.

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**Review?**


	15. Redeemer

**I'm not exactly sure where my bro was going with this drabble, and I don't think he knew either. Opinions?**

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**G.R.I.T. Commander  
**

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After The War of the Ring, Aragorn and Faramir both set out to rid Middle-earth of the last of Sauron's forces. One of the first places they set out for was Minas Morgul.

Minas Morgul. The home of the Nazgul.

Even with the Ringwraiths long dead, there was still a resistance party, for not all of the orcs had left. Once they cleared the tower of every single orc, Aragorn claimed the valley for Gondor. He threw the tower down, broke it up and burned the entire valley.

Nothing grew in the accursed valley for many ages to come.

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**Review?**


	16. Singing

**I know this isn't quite what you suggested, DORK DOG, but the muse does what it will.**

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**Scribe~Of~RED  
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Melodies drifted between the towering mallorn trees like a mist—haunting strains that lingered in the living air of the Golden Wood: breath to weary travelers.

Aragorn stared up into the gray canopy, but he saw not the present day; instead, his sights were drawn back through time, to the day he was first consumed by the joy of true love.

On that day, song became reality; starlight became living flesh once more.

But now she wasn't here, and Lothlórien itself knew.

As he breathed the diminished air, he wondered yet again if the dream would forever remain a fantasy.

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**Review?**


	17. Useless

**It's my opinion that things got a bit off track in this drabble, but I'm sure that's happened to every writer at least once...**

**EDIT: Thanks to 5SecstoThrowItFB for pointing out the misspelling of _Morgul_. I appreciate all the reviews you've left. *tips hat*  
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**G.R.I.T. Commander**

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Never in his life had Merry felt more useless than when the Uruk-hai kidnapped him and Pippin from Amon Hen.

"It was one long nightmare," he told Sam later, "being held captive by orcs. I couldn't tell whether I was caught in a bad dream, or awake and living it. Once we escaped, I couldn't help feeling like moss growing on the side of Treebeard, Quickbeam, and the Ents. Being lugged around behind Aragorn and Gandalf was even worse; riding with Rohan to Minas Tirith was no better.

"But avenging Frodo's Morgul Knife wound... it was worth every minute."

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**Review?**


	18. Reassemble

**My bro and I both agree this is our favorite drabble he's written. Things seemed to work out perfectly as he was writing it.**

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**G.R.I.T. Commander**_  
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_All that is gold does not glitter,_

_Not all those who wander are lost._

Aragorn pondered these words as he left Rivendell.

_From the ashes a fire shall be woken,_

_A light from the shadows shall spring._

He had talked to Bilbo, a kindly hobbit who now lived in Rivendell. This hobbit took a liking to him and made a poem for him after they had talked.

Aragorn stood up tall, raised his head into the sunlight, and drew the splinted, broken sword from its sheath.

_Renewed shall be blade that was broken,_

_The crownless again shall be king._

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**Review?**


	19. Invader

**My brother and I realized late last night we didn't have any drabbles ready to post... which led to a rather late writing up of this particular piece.**

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**G.R.I.T. Commander  
**

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Sauron.

Rohan, Gondor, Isengard, the Shire—all of them invaded by Sauron.

Isengard. The mind of Saruman was overrun by the lidless eye; Isengard after.

Rohan. Attacked and probed by Saruman: Sauron in disguise.

Gondor. Always under attack from the Orcs of the single lidless eye—while Denathor battled Sauron.

The Shire. Invaded by spies and even Saruman in the early Fourth Age.

All had one thing in common: Freedom.

Each had that thing which Sauron could not have, so he tried to take it away.

He invaded to destroy hope, power, freedom.

He invaded because he feared their freedom.

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**Review?**


	20. Bookshelf

**I apologize for the _huge_ delay in getting this out. I wanted to write this drabble with G.R.I.T., but he didn't want to, then I forgot about these drabbles, then I began working part time, while trying to plot for NaNoWriMo at the same time... In short: I forgot. But... here you go! I originally wanted to co-author it with my brother, but he backed out (again), so this is all mine. I hope you all enjoy; and remember, keep leaving reviews! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this! ****I cannot for the life of me get the last line to work exactly the way I want, but I don't hate it, so I figured it's good enough to publish.  
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**This _is_ the final chapter, so I would also like to thank everyone who's reviewed, both those who have accounts and those who don't. Every single review is held in a dear place in my heart (and a special folder in my email). Thank you all for your encouraging comments/happy raves. You're all awesome.  
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**Scribe~Of~RED  
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Faramir stepped into their chambers. "Éoywn?"

There was no answer. This did not perturb him. His wife was here—candles would not be flickering on the wide, wood table if she weren't.

Loosening his sword belt, he trode across the thick bearskin rugs and peeked into the sitting room. On a carved divan, curled beneath a silk sheet, eyes closed in slumber, lay Éowyn. A heavily bound book lay open beneath her right hand.

Faramir smiled and crossed the sunlit room, stooping to place a kiss upon her pale brow, then set the book atop the others at her feet.

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**Review one final time?**


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